


A Cognitive Dissonance

by Budderfire



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alucard deserves nice things, Belmonts can't do anything right, Family Drama, God I felt sick typing that, Human/Vampire Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monster Hunters, POV Original Character, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Season/Series 03, Rating May Change, Vampire Hunters, Very Post Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Budderfire/pseuds/Budderfire
Summary: They went on to another country, forgetting the promises they made.He was left alone in a castle black, slowly covering the chars in his heart with cement. They could get close, but never enough to touch. In midnight, he dreamed of cut curtains, of silver scars, of burning eyes.He was the problem child and the prodigy, the two sides that never meshed. They would call him disappointment, black sheep, disgrace. And yet, he moved forwards, even without a purpose, until a whip was in his hands.Through the darkness separating them, they locked eyes."I need to run." He thought."I need to save you." He thought.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Original Character(s), Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	A Cognitive Dissonance

**Author's Note:**

> Just watch me L, I'll procrastinate on homework with my right hand, and write fanfiction with my left! I'll take this fanfiction... and never FINISH IT!
> 
> In all seriousness, season 3 ended, prepare for the onslaught of fix-it, and I am definitely dog-piling. But let's take the fix-it fic idea in a new direction, shall we?
> 
> (4/4: Typo corrections)
> 
> (9/15) This thing is about to undergo serious revisions, wish me luck! Gonna turn this into a 3rd person POV

**Chapter 1: Mecca**

I am not having a very good day.

Today, I’m planted in the lecture hall, listening to a lecture on Biology (I skipped the class in one of my earlier semesters), and regretting everything, from making it a ten a.m. class to the fact that I’m college at all. And since I couldn’t find the time to grab even a cup of tea this morning, I am under caffeinated, underslept, and completely over whatever the hell the mitochondria is supposed to do in the cell. And to think, I mocked science teachers in school over this bull. I understand that yeah, science is important, but I don’t think I’ll need to understand cell anatomy if I’m hunting down minotaurs in Greece, or demons in Bulgaria. Really, all I need to know is how to handle a whip and a sword, maybe a gun or two with holy water. Oh, that’s a good idea. I sketch out a small water gun. Holy water gun. Now that would be efficient.

“Belmont!”

Oh hell, Professor must have caught me-

“Come down to the front, you have a note from the office.”

Uh oh, this better not be about that mural I did last week. I could’ve sworn there were no security cameras nearby…

An office aide stands up at the front as I come down with my backpack, binder placed back inside gently with my textbook. She gives me a smile, handing me a note in the office stationary. At first, I’m shocked. I’d recognize that penmanship anywhere, it’s somebody I know. But why would Uncle Francis be- Wait, this is…

I hurry from the lecture hall, my feet smacking against the linoleum as I almost run to the front of the building. A hunt? Right now? This is my last year in college, what gives? I’ve taken on less hunts due to my studies, and Uncle knows that! The only thing that should be pulling me out of school is a world-ending event, and I’d certainly know if the apocalypse is happening.

In the front entrance is the bastard himself, his brown hair slicked back, looking more greasy than shiny. Maroon suit. Belmont colors. He prides himself on being well-dressed and prepared. Well, I pride myself on wearing worn jeans, edgy fingerless gloves, and being a disappointment. Really, the edgier I dress, the more I piss off the WASP side of the family. It irks them all to no end that I’m the prodigy, and also the black sheep at the same time. Though Uncle Francis doesn’t dislike me, he doesn’t really favor me like he does with my cousins, even the ones that aren’t his kids. Truly, though, I don’t mind him, even if he’s a bit arrogant. Hell, even I’m a bit arrogant.

“Good afternoon, Uncle. Is the world ending?”

“No, but…” He sighs, rubbing his temples. “You’ll see.”

“Oh, so we’re saving the world before it ends. Fun.” I follow him, shifting my backpack again. This strap’s really bothering me. They better let me take my hunting pack, or I’ll riot.

“Well, no. But it _is_ important. Requires a delicate hand.”

“I don’t have a delicate hand. Send the damn diplomats, if you need to.”

“No, no, I mean…” He sighs again. I’m probably giving him a headache. I tend to do that to him, not like I feel too guilty. “Lysander, just… let us explain in the car.”

“Us?” I open the door, letting him in first before I sit down, tossing my bag in the empty seat and slumping down.

“Lysander Sebastian Belmont, sit up. You are not a common punk.”

I sit up, like a marionette pulled by the strings. Grandmother. Nana. Buna. If there’s one person in this godforsaken family who likes me, it’s Buna. She’s an old lady, but still looks about sixty when she’s seventy. Her hair is back in a severe bun as always, small white strands falling from it here and there, framing her face. Unlike many women in our family, her hands are calloused in all the right places, from years of working with a weapon. I like Buna more, because she’s seen years of honest work compared to the monkey suit beside her. She tells me that she worked hard to protect her children, but really, I think she sheltered my Father and Uncle a bit too much. My Aunt certainly knows how to use our trademark weapon. Father and Uncle, not so much. She was there when night creatures wandered the jungles of Vietnam, as she cut through the underbrush in British Army fatigues, a machete in one hand and a whip in the other. Buna told me tales when I was young, of Romania, Vietnam, and of my ancestors who formed our long line of hunters.

“Sorry, _Buna_.” I fold my hands in my lap, mimicking her posture. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“No, no, it’s alright. Just remember your manners, Lysander.” She gives me a small smile before she takes on her serious face again.

“So, what’s the situation?”

From her pocket, Buna pulls a photograph, waiting for me to take out my journal. It’s like any other spiral journal, really, except it’s not. If anyone not of the Belmont line tried to open it, they would fail. The rune scratched on the cover glows red when I touch it, and the cover flies open, pages spinning to ones I haven’t used yet. I take the photo, grabbing a paperclip from my bag and pinning it to one page. On the opposite, I prepare to write my briefing.

“Have you seen the news lately, _nepot_?”

“No, I’ve been busy studying. Don’t have much time for the news.”

“You ought to watch it more often.” She takes the thermos next to her, taking a drink from it. Probably tea. “You’d be able to predict the sort of times we’ll need you. Anyways…”

“Here is your briefing. Over the past two weeks, four people have gone missing in Romania, near the Transylvania region. Though the Romanian Belmonts are scouring the land for any new vampires present, we still have only one plausible suspect. I say plausible with a stretch, since he’s been inactive for… well, centuries.”

“A sleeping vampire?”

“No, he just sticks to his area. Doesn’t cause trouble. You already saw the picture right?”

“Yes. That vampire… that isn’t really a vampire.” I saw the golden hair and pale skin in the picture the moment it was in my hands. That man… we all know who that man is, with absolute certainty.  
Buna takes a deep breath. “Last night, they found the body of a missing person. It was completely drained of blood. The fang-marks and trauma according to an attack were all there. These disappearances were the work of a vampire, no doubt.”

I sigh, putting down my pencil. “You want me to investigate the famous Alucard. The shut-in, hermit, human-disdaining dhampir that will most certainly turn me away at the door, with the threat of me being staked outside his castle.”

“We need a light hand for this. You are free to tell him why you are there. I highly doubt that it was him, but we have no other suspects. You’re our prodigy, nepot. If anyone can take him in a hostile state, it would be you.”  
Am I really doing this? I’ve been to Romania before, but will it be safe? Can I truly find out who’s causing these things? Well, I’ve done it before, that’s for certain. The things I’ve seen, the tactics I’ve used… they don’t go away with time. Those are the things that matter, not a college education or social cues.

“I’ll do it. Even if I don’t have a choice, I will do it.”

She gives me a smile, and I reach out for her hand. Our callouses match, though mine are lesser than hers. Buna and I, we know the true evils of the world. It would only make sense for her to call me, when I can tell the signs just as well as she can. No diplomat would be able to handle this situation. So why not just send a hunter instead?

“We’ll be going back to the mansion in London. Two hour drive.”

“Might as well work on the homework beforehand, then.” I pull out my laptop, booting it up and pulling up my work. The homework for biology is posted ahead of time, so really all I have to do is guess, google, and use some of my previous notes.

“So, er…” Uncle pipes up, rubbing the back of his neck. “What kind of drop do you want?”

“Get me as close to the castle as you can. I don’t want him on high alert in case it is him, but I would prefer not to walk for a week in the wilderness without the internet or a proper bathroom.”

“Right, right.” He begins typing in his phone, and Buna leans back a bit in her seat, pulling out her own phone.

“Buna, what level of candy crush are you on right now?”

“Level one-thousand.”  
“How much money have you spent on it?”

“Zero pounds and counting.”

Ah, classic Buna. She’s richer than almost anyone in the UK, but she’s more frugal than a man who makes a pound a week. I go back to my homework, letting the slight sway of the car lull me into relaxation.

\---

Two days later, I’m trekking through the wilderness, a bag on my back and using my scythe as a hiking stick. Now typically, I keep the blade in my bag, sheathed in something to keep it from tearing things (I made that mistake once in the backwoods of France, not making it again). But Romania is famous for the night creature population, and I don’t like being out in the open without a good weapon. Sure, whips are great, but there’s nothing like cleaving the air with a scythe taller than myself, and I can use the entire thing as a pretty nice walking stick as a bonus. I don’t see anyone using a whip as a walking stick. I’d be impressed if someone managed to do it, though. Maybe a crop would work… but crops aren’t good weapons.

This wooded path is clogged with autumn leaves, mist blocking my vision just slightly at the edge. Horizon Splitter can’t even help in this situation, but that’s fine. This path leads straight to castle Dracula, and I know better than to stray from paths at this point. I’ve seen one or two cars, offroad jeeps, pickup trucks owned by farmers. Some have been kind enough to take me down the road a little, mostly the farmers who don’t see anything weird about my scythe. It’s a hilly sort of region, but I know that I’m getting close.

They put me about three days out from old Belmont Manor, where the castle resides. Thank god we know where it is. It was nice to see my relatives. The Romanians get my fighting spirit, a stark contrast to the decadence of the Brits in our family. Even the preteens in the family know how to wield a weapon, as they were all practicing in the atrium when I arrived. It was nice to get my hands on a Romanian monster weapon, though I have to use my own on this mission.

If I’m lucky, and a few more farmers come along, I might reach castle Dracula before nightfall. That would be nice, considering all the walking I’ve done. I set my tent up last night, but it was a bit hard to sleep. There’s something in the woods, and I don’t want to be the next to disappear. At least I have my weapons, unlike the people who went missing.

For the longest time, I’ve loved travelling. Whether it was swaying in a sleeping car on a train, napping against the soft rumble of air travel, or just walking down these dirt paths, I’ve had a wanderlust a mile long. Buna told me that I cried the first time she went away on a mission, begging her to take me with. My first mission was that year, just a few hours outside of Moscow. That had been nice, even if it was a bit difficult as a first-timer. I remember the satisfaction of whipping night creatures out of the sky, watching them pop like balloons. Even Buna had been impressed with my accuracy. However, I can’t go full balloon-needle on a vampire, mostly because it would ruin any diplomatic relations we have with Alucard. He’s one of the good ones, not even a full vampire by the standards put in place.

I’ve seen a portrait or two of him, the most hanging in the Romanian estate. He’s a man with long, blond hair and golden eyes, with porcelain teeth peeking out from his upper lip. In those portraits, he’s always presented in a soft, aristocratic light. But his self-portraits tell me a different story, as well as the other paintings made by him in the house. Those paintings are full of harsh, vivid color, and in those, he seems more animalistic, those eyes of his taking more precedence. Some images burned into my mind, like the two impaled bodies in a desert wasteland. That one is hidden under a cloth in the library, leaned against the bookshelf. I can see why they hid it. That thing is instant childhood trauma in an image. Even though the Romanian children are tough, they shouldn’t have to see things like that. But the detail, the harsh lighting, and the curled up figure between the two, with a mop of dull, blond hair… It was dated around two hundred years ago, though I couldn’t place the art movement if I tried. The feelings though… I could only hope that he was more stable now, hopefully not a complete mess or clinically insane.

With my thoughts, I began to notice something in the distance. At first, I thought it was a tall pine, but trees don’t grow that tall, not even in places as undisturbed as this Romanian countryside. It peeks through the clouds, wrought iron and detailed as I get closer, cutting through the mist and fog.

“Dracula’s castle…” That much is obvious, as more things come into view. I can spot a river ahead, with a stone bridge. Odd, but it’s certainly welcome over trying to wade through a river with this pack of mine. The path winds further a bit more, as trees become a bit more sparse, eventually disappearing. A clearing? That would be quite nice. As I continue along, I can feel something odd. It’s not a fear thrill, or a suspense in the air. Those precede battles and dangerous areas. But instead, all I can feel is… it’s so odd, but it almost feels like a calmness. And yet, under it, something feels wrong. There’s a great sadness to this place, this dark and tragic castle. It’s blacker than night, but lights shine through the windows. Fluorescent, even. As I continue walking, I see the other thing of note. A huge, wrecked ruin, moss growing over stones and the rocks bleached from sunlight of centuries. The old Belmont estate. And the old Belmont Hold. Many of my family have ventured here on express permission, taking certain treasures for their own use in hunting. Though Alucard has been distant, he isn’t cruel to us. After all, it’s our home that his castle is next to, not his. I have to admit, even a ruin like this looks beautiful right now. Trailing ivy, grass and tree branches moving the stone off the ground… it’s almost an aesthetic in its own right.

Beautiful. This place is full of sad beauty, things worn down and broken, but still lovely in their own special ways. It’s the kind of place I like when I’m exploring, the quiet and lonesome that is so far gone that a repair won’t do much. Instead, I trace over the paths worn into floors, wondering how people lived their lives in this house. As I wander it, I feel both familiarity and foreignness. This place once belonged to my family, once a great manor like the one three days away. But it is also destroyed beyond recognition, unable to be remembered properly. Memories… I wonder if my ancestors had memories of this place. If my forefather, Trevor Belmont, remembered this hold, when he left Wallachia for the last time. Did he even care? Did he know what he was leaving behind, when he left? These thoughts turn over and over in my head, never ending, always cycling.

Oh right, the task at hand. I should enter the castle before it is too late in the night, before I lose my nerve. I grab my pack from where I left it, making sure to remove the blade of my scythe with utmost care. If it truly comes to a fight, my whip will serve me well. The handle can be collapsed, placed in my pack alongside the blade. I take out the whip, a pure black thing, one of the standard monster-killer types. Blessed whip. I dyed it black a few years ago, hoping to make it look more intimidating than an Indiana Jones prop. I think it looks nice, and it still works like a charm.

The castle looms over me, the shadow giving me a slight shiver. Cold. But I have to go inside. I continue up to the front steps, calming myself as much as I can. Nerves of steel, reflexes like a cat, speed of a mongoose. The two skeletons rattle just slightly, the bones bleached white from sunlight. The one on the right is missing a leg from the kneecap down, probably from all the weathering. It gives me an ominous feeling. There’s something our parents told us, when they gave us the story of Alucard Tepes.

“ _Don’t make him angry if you come across him, or you’ll be the third person he impales!_ ”

Good parenting, that. I’m pretty sure every kid, even just a fourth related to the Belmonts is traumatized by now. Those two bodies have a story, though. I know better than to ask. Maybe there’s something written about it somewhere. Maybe it was the work of his dear old dad. Who knows, honestly. Could have been anything. Intruders, maybe. Perhaps someone tried to steal from the Belmont Hold. All I know is that everybody who visits reports the skeletons still being there. Whoever they were has been lost to time or Alucard, and he won’t say anything about them.

I push open the iron door, putting my strength into it. The doors creak, just slightly. Must be in good shape, for something that could rust. Here I am.

The entrance hall is quiet, just a bit warmer than the outside. Under my feet, the sound of my footsteps echoes on stone. Here I am. Here I am. It calls out to anyone in the castle, to whoever can hear me. As I walk, I feel almost a sense of deja vu. A sense of familiarity that doesn’t belong to me. A memory. A memory of someone lost. Her words in my blood feel it, her DNA is a magical binding that feels that wonder and interest. Seeker and Hunter together, bound in a person. I can almost see her, with long, golden hair and clever eyes, holding a knife in her hand loosely, not intending to use it. Her phantom walks ahead of me, shimmering in the dust of the front entrance. My feet make prints on the stone floor, adding to her ghost. Lisa. The single bride of Dracula. The witch. The doctor. The saint of Lupu. She walks ahead, leaving no footprints, her cape trailing behind her. She slowly transforms, layers falling away as I see her dressed in an aristocrat’s dress of the old times, long hair pulled back in a bun, her knife replaced with a small hand of someone I can’t see. A memory. But whose? Whose memory is this?

At the top of the stairs, I can suddenly see golden in the electric lights. Golden. Golden hair-

I duck into a crook of the wall, hoping I disturbed the dust enough to make my footprints here disappear. This is worrying. I shouldn’t have ducked out. I look suspicious that way. All I’m here for is to talk, to get information. I can’t seem like a liar. After all, we know that Alucard Tepes hates liars more than anything.

I come back out into the open to find that golden shine gone, missing from sight. Shit. He might have seen it wrong. He may ambush me. Or… no, did I scare him? I already put away my weapons, a whip on my hip that really only shows my family. Belmonts. I am a Belmont, and he has a fondness for us. I will not be killed here.

“Hello?”

Nothing but my echo replies.

“Hello? Alucard Tepes, are you here?”

Nothing, once again. Silence. The hall swallows up my echoes, like a hungry beast.

“I mean no harm, I only wish to talk. I didn’t hike three days out here to be turned away, however. Come out, please.”

The sound of heels alerts me, the clack calling down the stairs. I whip my head towards the grand staircase, and the sight before me almost makes my heart clench.

At the middle of the stairs is the main in those portraits, and I can say for certain that they do him no justice. Long, blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail, drifting behind him as he walks, his golden eyes glinting in the electric lights. He’s dressed in gothic clothing, looking like a product of the romantic ages rather than a regular person. Around his neck glints a silver chain, a ring placed upon it that sparkles ever so slightly. His skin is pale as the moon, though on the joints is a slight pinkness, as well as dusting his nose and the hollow of his neck.

Oh. _Oh_. This… God. I understand now why when my female relatives came back from trips to this castle, they all seemed in a daze. I can even smell something, like old rose petals, as he comes closer. Everything is almost unreal when I see him, as if the world has merely fallen away.

“A Belmont.” His voice is a bit deep, and I can see his fangs when he talks. They are not like porcelain, instead like the fangs of a wild cat. His eyes flicker to my whip, but I’ve kept my hand away from it, as it hangs. “What brings you all the way to this place?”

“I…” I’m lost for words. They just won’t form in my mind. “To… I…” I take a moment, calming myself. I thought I’d have to deal with blood streaking the walls, and an unhinged vampire. Really, I’m dealing with an unnatural beauty standing in front of me that’s making words not work in my head. I’m reminded of a passage from a long time ago, when I was younger and my head was filled with thoughts of My Chemical Romance and True Blood. A nighttime patron of the arts. Yes, that man evokes Aro, Caius, and Marcus. A long haired beauty, with the eyes of Carlisle. Though I look back on those years with embarrassment (especially when Father found the books, yikes), they were the original source of my sympathy, and my empathy for creatures that felt as if they were black sheep. And to be honest, Alucard Tepes in the true black sheep of vampires and humans alike.

He tilts his head, a long strand of hair fluttering over his shoulder, spilling like spun gold. “Is something the matter? Please tell me that drunk brain damage does not run in the Belmont clan, I will be very disappointed.”

Oh my god. Nevermind. I can’t hold back the resulting laugh, as I cover my face with my hand. All this tension immediately dissolves, instead turning the air light and calming, dust becoming like sparkles instead.

“Sorry, my only addiction is weapons and the pen, not much else. I have too much homework to go out drinking.”

“I see. I guess that the Belmonts have remained on the edge of decency. Good to hear, though I’m surprised you weren’t outraged. The people they send often get furious if I disparage their ancestors by a minor slight.”

“Noble house of Belmont, they all say. Well, I’d love to remind them all at a fancy soiree that our great Trevor Belmont was a complete drunk and absolute bastard.”

He laughed, a soft sound that rang in the hall, as he quickly covered his mouth. “Oh God, the stories I could tell. You have no idea.”

In this way, I felt like I was in the presence of a kindred spirit, one that felt just the same as I did. Both us are the stain on our families, but also the prodigies and powerful ones. Maligned in the rules, but parallel in our spirit.

“So, I’ll ask again, now that you seem less nervous. What brings you to my castle?”

I take a deep breath, making sure my hand is near my whip, just in case. “Do you know anything of the disappearances near this area?”

“I already answered their questions in correspondence, but I’ll say it again: I know that they are happening, but I am not doing them. If your family would employ forensics for once in their lives… But I digress, it’s not me.”

I let out a sigh of relief, dropping my hand. He doesn’t seem to be lying, that much is certain. I’m not blinded by my heart in that decision, and besides, he’s been a family friend for centuries. But perhaps… I don’t really want to go back just yet. And besides, I know my family will pull strings to get me passing this semester. I’m not happy about it, but they made me go to college. So they’ll pay for it as well. After all, I don’t need a degree to be a hunter, and being a hunter is what I’m best at.

“Good. I was hoping it wasn’t you.” He gives me a smile at that, his mouth closed. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I swear, people in my family either adore you or they hate your guts.”

“And you?”

“Not sure, honestly. Everyone else seems to have met you, but I never did. It’s nice, actually. You’re nice” I add, before I can stop myself. “I mean, well…”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Now, don’t give me so many compliments. That’s a bit suspicious.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, just saying so for now. Come, let’s get out of this dusty place. I really ought to clean here so your asthmatics won’t have another fit in here.”

“Someone had an attack?”

“A kid named Taylor.”  
I hold back the laugh. Serves the brat right. Even as an adult, Taylor Belmont is the world’s worst spoiled rich kid, with spoiled parents.

“I am never letting him live that down. He deserves that after calling my phone an ‘old model’ when he has the newest version.”

“If there’s spoiled Belmonts, then how far the mighty have fallen.” He chuckles, as we head up the stairs. “What’s your name?”

“Lysander Belmont. Just call me Lys.”

“You’re name’s a bit long for you, isn’t it?”

“Hey!” That’s rich, coming from a guy who’s only a few inches taller than me. “I think Adrian Fahrenheit Tepes far oustrips your own height!”

“Well, true, but at least my name isn’t just a foot taller than me.”

Is he trying to banter, or be rude? Either way, I am not liking this. I didn’t choose to be one goddamn inch short of six foot! I cross my arms, just letting out a sigh. Don’t let things rattle you, and you’ll be fine. Those words echo in my mind. Buna is a smart woman. Buna’s never rattled, that much is true.

So I won’t remain rattled, with this tentative partnership.


End file.
